


about all the plans that ended in disaster

by magma



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Infinity War Spoilers, Because I Can't Not, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Shameless Smut, and feelings, bare minimum, like every spoiler, oh god i'm that person, or very little comfort, songfic i'm so sorry i really am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 07:27:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14491863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magma/pseuds/magma
Summary: EXPLICIT SPOILERS FOR AVENGERS: INFINITY WARA glimpse of the future laid out before them. After it's all ripped away, they must figure out how to trudge on in destiny's wake.More detailed summary in the notes.





	about all the plans that ended in disaster

**Author's Note:**

> One last time, for the folks in the cheap seats: CONTAINS JUST ABOUT EVERY SPOILER POSSIBLE FOR AVENGERS: INFINITY WAR.
> 
> Summary, the Second:
> 
> They saw a future laid out before them, and had been prepared to take it. After the destruction of half the universe, everyone manages their losses whatever way they can. It's time to learn how to trudge on in destiny's destructive wake. 
> 
> Steve Rogers has more practice than others.

_We are searchlights, we can see in the dark_

_We are rockets, pointed up at the stars  
  
_ “Steve… _Steve…_ ”  
  
The time following Bucky’s reprogramming was like a dream.  
  
“Oh, _oh_!”  
  
Sure, it wasn’t perfect, what with the Avengers being fractured and fragmented across the globe and otherworldly realms. But who could say their life was perfect anyway? Someday he’d fix things with Tony and the others. But for now.  
  
“Yes, _there_!”  
  
But for now. Days spent lazing next to a placid Wakanda lake, domestic farm responsibilities the only thing to distract them. Nights spent wrapped in each other, broken up bouts of casual and  carnal intimacy in turn.  
  
He could live like this, for now.  
  
“God, _Bucky-_ ”  
  
They spent hours just talking. They spent hours in silence. Relearning each other. As comrades. As best friends. He’d missed Bucky so _much_ , even before the Winter Soldier had stormed into his life. Every moment he could steal for them was a precious thing. He couldn’t waste a second.  
  
And he vowed to take nothing for granted, this time around. Which meant giving voice to the pieces of their relationship they’d never had to speak of to understand, before.  
  
The closeness they’d cultivated when their desires had been colored as a perversion, of all things; they touched those old wounds with tender hands, painful but healing. Drawing out the old, tainted blood, and replenishing the emptied spaces with something built on solid ground instead of whispers and prayers.  
  
They were building this, together.  
  
But other things… those didn’t necessarily have to change. They’d always known how to do this part right.  
  
“Steve,” He was parted from his reverie gently, with a hand cupping his jaw, “Where’d you go just now?”  
  
Steve blinked at Bucky, splayed out beneath him, resplendent and whole in all the ways that mattered, “Just… thinking.”  
  
Bucky scowled playfully, panting softy, “If you’re gettin’... _distracted_... in th’ middle of this, I gotta be doing something wrong.”  
  
He laughed, curling his arms under Bucky’s back to grip strong shoulders, “Not when it’s you that’s distracting me.”  
  
“That ain’t good enough, Rogers,” Bucky growled, still light hearted, though Steve could hear the iron behind his words, “You’ve got important business that needs your full attention,” He punctuated his claim with a twist of his hips and a mind-melting clench that had Steve’s hindbrain spinning dizzily, “Wouldn’t do to start shirking your duties _now_.”  
  
“Sorry, Buck,” He laughed with a huff, answering Bucky’s grievances with a firm, slow thrust that had Bucky’s lashes fluttering shut and rewarding him with a pleased hum, “But it’s your fault. For being so perfect.”  
  
“Christ, Rogers,” Bucky gasped, clutching Steve’s flank, digging into hard muscle, “Y’really think this is the appropriate- _fuck-_ time for that kinda sap?”  
  
Steve chuckled lowly, building his rhythm back up, determined to rob Bucky of any shreds of coherence he doggedly clung to, “No time like the present, right?”  
  
“Get back to work, punk.”  
  
Steve was never one to ignore a directive from his Sergeant.  
  
The breath left Bucky’s body in a whoosh as Steve applied every ounce of focus and strength to pistoning his hips into his lover’s body, driving his cock hard and deep, just the way Bucky was asking. The linen sheets around them shifted as they did, twisting with Bucky’s body as his back arched, head thrown back with a pleasured groan. He distantly felt the fingers against his side twitch before Bucky withdrew them to clutch the sheets near his head instead, giving himself the leverage to buck up into Steve’s movements, to meet Steve’s pleasure with is own.  
  
His body was a furnace beneath Steve’s. Solid, healthy muscle and bone all that was left of his days of fighting. The lines of his body hardened since his time on the ice, but soft and receptive in all the places that mattered. He was just slightly smaller than Steve now, which never failed to get Steve’s motor running, just as it had after his original transformation. He had loved the thick, strapping Bucky he’d found in Bucharest no less, but the novelty of wrapping Bucky in his own body as he fucked him was a familiar source of pride. So different from when he’d been borderline emaciated, with Bucky’s larger frame writhing beneath him. Even with only the one hand carving jagged lines into Steve’s back, their lovemaking was so earnestly reflective of their stolen time during the war that it took Steve’s breath away. He loved all the ways they had changed and refit themselves just as he loved all the ways in which they’d stayed the same.  
  
“Never thought we’d have this again,” He breathed, dipping down to nip and suck the taut skin over Bucky’s collarbones, “Not like this.”  
  
Bucky laughed softly between his moans, “I mean, I can’t say I thought it was likely, exactly. But you’re still the idiot. Was always a possibility, someday.”  
  
“You think about it,” He asked, as he drug his hands down to fit them against the muscle and flesh of Bucky’s hips, having to sit back slightly to keep his leverage and the angle Bucky liked best, “During your time on the lam? You think back to when I’d do this to you in our bivouacs. Hardly any room to move, but just enough space for you to squirm on my cock?”  
  
“Jesus, _yes…_ all the time. All I could think about, some nights.”  
  
“You ever touch yourself the way I’d touch you? Get fingers inside? Pretend they were mine?”  
  
“On special occasions. But- _oh, God, Steve_ \- but didn’t feel right, sometimes.”  
  
“Oh?” Steve’s hard pace stuttered as he took that in, “You think about doing this the other way then?” Bucky had always been more enthusiastic about catching, with Steve always a little reticent about receiving, but it hadn’t been unheard of for them to switch roles when they felt like it.  
  
Bucky just laughed, sounding a little giddy as he bared down, refusing to surrender to Steve’s taken pause, “On even special-er occasions, but I meant,” He caught Steve’s arm suddenly, gracefully pulling himself up and shifting so he was kneeling over Steve’s lap, cock still settled deep inside his body, “My hands were too big. For the memories. Wanted to think about somethin’ else. Your hands were smaller, back then.”  
  
It should have left Steve bereft, knowing Bucky sometimes wished for his previous body, but instead his heart just clenched, in time with Bucky’s own body as he tightened his core to ride him, “Yeah?”  
  
Bucky’s eyes were soft where they met Steve’s, “Yeah.”  
  
“Oh,” He breathed, wrapping his hands as far around Bucky’s waist as they would go, using his bigger body and strength to add power to Bucky’s undulations above him, “Didn't… didn’t think you’d ever think about those times after…”  
  
His lover didn’t seemed shocked by his surprise, “Of course I did. I loved that little guy same as you now. I wouldn’t trade you for the world, but we were… I was still happy. The way things were. I remember that.” He wrapped his arm around Steve’s shoulders.  
  
“Bucky,” Steve groaned, with a note of reverence, sliding his hands down to Bucky’s ass to pull him wider. Bucky’s legs splayed farther in response as he groaned, feeling Steve’s fingers trailing over his taut, strained rim, “I’m sure other things being bigger didn’t hurt though.”  
  
Bucky’s laughter sounded like music in the quiet fog of their coupling, “God, Steve, I won’t pretend to complain about that. Remember being so… Christ… Never knew something could go as deep as you do now.”  
  
“I want to be inside you all the time,” Steve confessed, using his grip on Bucky’s ass to pull them closer together where they were joined, the change in angle causing Bucky to cry out. To throw his head back, tossing all that lush, beautiful hair over his shoulders, “Want you full of me all the time. You’ll never forget me again.”  
  
“If only,” Bucky gasped, sounding short of breath as he rode Steve in short, hard jabs that must have been tagging his prostate full on.  
  
“No, you won’t,” Steve insisted, twisting his grip to get his fingers under strong, thick thighs, lifting Bucky’s weight before pushing him back down with the force of his thumbs, “Every part of you is going to me mine. Just like all of me is yours.”  
  
It was Steve’s turn to gasp as all of Bucky clenched around the thick intrusion of his cock, responding to Steve’s words.  
  
He could only continue, “You’d take a piece of me with you. Inside you, wherever you went. Even when I’m not here, you’d have a part of me. If you ever started to forget, I’d remember for the both of us. I’m not losing you again.”  
  
“ _Steve…_ ”  
  
He spoke his next words into the straining, sweaty chords of Bucky’s neck, continuing to work Bucky down on him, “You made me a promise, jerk. ‘Til the end of the line.”  
  
The force of Bucky’s orgasm- the rhythmic clutch of his insides, the clenching of fingers and toes, the arch and twist of his long, powerful body- flung them back so it was Steve sprawled over their nest of sheets, Bucky slumped over him, panting and groaning as the pleasure rode over him in waves.  
  
He could tell Bucky hadn’t fully found the other side of his pleasure, even when he lurched upright with a groan, bracing his hand against Steve’s chest, and grinning like they were both seventy years and so many tragedies younger. The gorgeous bow of hi lips twisted into a smirk as his channel continued to weakly spasm around Steve’s length. And then he bore down.  
  
They were only getting started. _  
  
_ \--

_We are billions of beautiful hearts_

_And you sold us down the river too far  
  
_ “I will kill him before he has the chance.”  
  
“ _We_ will kill him, Nebula.”  
  
“ _You_ want to do it to save people. To _do the right thing_. I deserve to do it, for _myself_. I know you realize that.”  
  
“If I can give you that chance, you know I will. But because I’m not only doing this for us, I know the _how_ isn’t what’s important. What matters is he doesn’t have the chance to do to the universe what he’s done to us and so many others. There’s too much at stake.”  
  
\--  
  
_We are problems that want to be solved  
  
_ He hadn’t wanted to come. Leaving Wakanda after everything, it took more than he’d known was left in him. But Nat had slipped into the wind again, and Steve was out of commission for all intents and purposes. He hadn’t heard from Tony since before the world began to end and Pepper had no idea where he’d ended up in all this- if he’d been one of the ones… culled from existence. The fear of not knowing if his best friend was dead or alive was a familiar beast in his breast, but there was nothing he could do about that now.  
  
Someone had to be here.  
  
Rhodey closed the last few steps between himself and the threshold and rang the Wilson’s doorbell.

\--  
  
_We are children that need to be loved  
  
_ “What. Happened.”  
  
This was a version of Clint she’d never seen before, even though he’d only opened the door far enough for her to see his face. Even after having his mind and body commandeered by Loki’s Scepter, he hadn’t looked like this. She couldn’t even define what she was looking at, which told her everything she needed to know.  
  
“Who did you lose, Clint?”  
  
Something else seemed to shatter in his gaze, and he opened the door fully. He was holding Nathaniel on his other arm.  
  
“Everyone.”

He let her in.  
  
“We’re still regrouping,” She told him over mugs of tea, the whole charade feeling more contrived than ever before, “We don’t even know the extent yet. It doesn’t look good.”  
  
Clint sighed, setting his mug on the table and reaching for a sippy cup. Nathaniel was perched on his lap, not even four years old and barely able to even comprehend his losses. “How many funerals we got coming up?”  
  
“Not as many as you’d expect, I don’t think. I’ve reached out to Stark and Lang, but no response yet. Bruce and Thor made about as dramatic a reappearance as you could expect- they’re still here. Steve and Rhodey are still in Wakanda, but not looking so good. Wilson and Wanda, however…”  
  
She looked up when she heard a clatter- the sippy cup was leaking juice onto his nice hardwood floor.  
  
“Wanda?” Clint croaked, looking stricken, even after everything he’d already lost.  
  
She nodded, “She’d had to destroy the mind stone, but it didn’t matter in the end. We lost Viz. They… took him. And then…” She spread her hands out, trying to convey all that those repercussions encompassed.  
  
“Christ, Nat. She was- she was a _kid_.”  
  
“She’d grown up.”  
  
“That’s not the damn point here.” She shrugged, staring down into her tea. “You were supposed to look out for her. Cap _promised_.”  
  
Her gaze snapped up, “We did everything we could. _Everything_. The Avengers. Wakanda. People we don’t even know- we did _everything_ we could. People were _erased_. Half the galaxy has been _erased_ , Clint. There was no protecting anyone once he had what he came for. You’d know that if you had been there.”  
  
“You know why-”  
  
“That doesn’t mean you can accuse us of letting anyone die. There was no rhyme or reason to it. They were just- _gone_. Sam, T’Challa, Barnes, Wanda- he took the stone and they… evaporated. Wanda _killed_ Viz to keep from them getting his stone, and Thanos… undid it. Control Z, made it unhappen. What else should we have done, Clint? You didn’t see it. You don’t get to make that call.”  
  
“We were responsible.”  
  
“We weren’t _enough_.”  
  
They remained in silence until the sun had set, leaving the room in darkness.  
  
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you.”  
  
She sighed, retrieving her forgotten tea, “You had your reasons. No offense, but I don’t think it would have made a difference, either way. We were outclassed in every way possible.”  
  
Nathan was sleeping in his arms by now, and Clint went to lay him on the couch. He turned back to her, determined set to his jaw.  
  
“Then what’s the plan?”  
  
She looked at him, feeling haunted and empty, unable to muster anything but honesty, “There isn’t one.”  
  
\--

 _We were willin', we came when you called  
  
_ “He’s gone, isn’t he?”  
  
Okoye hadn’t been in the room for longer than a moment. Her gaze drifted over the dust and ashes of devoted, strong, Wakandans, searching.  
  
She found Shuri slumped behind the table that had supported the only person standing between them… and this. The android was gone. So many were gone.  
  
The princess stared out the window at the wasted remains of the city and battlefield. Okoye knew it must have killed the girl to stand behind these shields and watch her friends and comrades as they were struck down in defense of her own duty.  
  
“It isn’t your fault.”  
  
“It certainly isn’t not my fault. That would imply I did not have the ability to stop it. I wasn’t fast enough.”  
  
“The witch left you alone.”  
  
“She knew she was needed out there. I was needed here. It didn’t matter, did it? Now they’re gone. Tell me I am wrong.”  
  
“Your brother would tell you you are wrong,” Okoye offered, but she wasn’t prone to letting delicacy mire what needed to be said, “You did everything right, and it didn’t matter. T’Challa is gone. The witch and her android are gone. So many are gone. This is what we’re left with.”  
  
The princess sniffled, but no tears fell. She was just a child, but Bast knew she had grown so strong, so quickly after her father’s death.  
  
Shuri raised her dark gaze to Okoye’s, “Who else did we lose?”  
  
Okoye tried to recall faces that were missing, in the void after the battle ceased, “Sam Wilson. And Sergeant Barnes.”  
  
“My White Wolf,” Shuri frowned, continence twisting once more are she struggled to overcome her devastation, “The Captain, is he?”  
  
“Inconsolable.”  
  
They remained quiet for long minutes, watching as the sun continued to set, the world resolutely turning on despite the scars it had bourne this day.  
  
Okoye very nearly startled when the princess rose, suddenly, only sparing their desolate view one last moment. She watched as Shuri turned toward the door.  
  
“Where do you think you’re going?”  
  
Shuri glanced back only briefly, clearly expecting her to follow, “Half of the population has been obliterated before the other half’s eyes. Half of Wakanda is confused and devastated. We may not have answers, but the chaos will care not for our explanations.  
  
We still have half a country to lead.”  
  
\--  
  
_But, man, you fooled us, enough is enough  
_  
I didn’t matter that he’d taken her in. That he'd raised her as his own. That he loved her. Or even that in the twisted depths of her heart, she would love him, no matter what he had done to her and to so many others. It didn’t even matter that he killed her. The chaos that would follow and the havoc rushing forward would care nothing for her regrets.  
  
Just as destiny cared nothing for all the things she had to live for, now. The gifts she’d been given since coming into her own. Since finding her place in the galaxy.   
  
It wasn’t fair. For once, it was for her own future she mourned. For her family. It was only thanks to them she’d been foolish enough to recognize that future in the first place. Thanks to them, she'd become something more than just his tool. He had been a _Guardian,_ surrounded by people she, in her own way, loved.  
  
And now, only devastation awaited them.  
  
\--  
  
_Sticks and stones, they may break these bones_

 _But then I'll be ready, are you ready?  
  
_ He’d begun salvaging the invaders’ wreckage before Groot’s ashes had even fully scattered to the winds of this horrible planet. His best friend was gone. But he still had people- his _family-_ out there. He wouldn’t rest until he found them, and brought them home. Wherever that was now.  
  
Against all his luck, he found a ship that would make the trip and barely paused to tip Thor off before he was leaving Earth’s atmosphere in his dust.  
  
Titan wasn’t so far off, really, but the ride there felt like it would take another lifetime.  
  
He touched down under the red dirt sky as close to the nearest lifeforms as he dared. And there it went again, his shit rotten luck.  
  
“S’pose it was too much to hope you’d’ve been wasted with the rest, huh?” He growled, arming his remaining gun. One could never be too sure of allegiances in this galaxy.  
  
Nebula frowned at him from her slump against a chunk of ruins, “Where have _you_ been?”  
  
“Off doing our job. Don’t remember you skulking around, before I left. Can I just tell you how thrilled I am to see you? I’m sure my joy must be obvious.”  
  
“I came for Thanos,” She answered, apparently glossing over their antagonistic routine completely, “He took Gamora because she thought she could _save_ me,” She hissed.  
  
Familiar ice began to creep into his tiny veins, “They got her, then?”  
  
Her eyes slipped closed as she dropped her big bald head back against the slab, “He needed a sacrifice. I had to stop him.”  
  
“I gather that didn’t work out,” He muttered, attempting not to choke on his own rough vocal chords as his throat tightened.  
  
She was uncharacteristicly quiet following the jab, and for once he kept his trap shut and waited her out.  
  
“They’re all gone,” She said at last, but the words didn’t make any sense.  
  
“What do you mean, _gone_?”  
  
“Your friends. The Guardians. They’ve joined the dust covering the rest of this forsaken planet. Gone, animal, _gone_.”  
  
He startled at the clatter of his own gun hitting the ground, “You can’t be serious,” His voice was too soft. He didn’t sound like that.  
  
Nebula nodded off into the distance, “One of the other humans. He is all that’s left, but he hasn’t moved since his child was erased,” She glanced back at Rocket with a scowl, “Where’s _your_ tree child, anyway?”  
  
He glanced off in the direction she’d indicated, swallowing a jab of sorrow with a gulp, “Groot… he didn’t make it. Erased, or whatever you called it,” He squinted, searching through the gloom for whatever human she’d been talking about, trying to stay focused. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe they’d just gotten separated or something, “Not that it’s any of your damned business,” He remembered himself with a start.  
  
But the ship’s readings. Only two lifeforms on the planet. There was _so much_ dust.  
  
“Then they’re all… gone,” She affirmed quietly.  
  
Drax. Feelings chick. Gamora. Quill. Groot. He was all that’s left.  
  
“We better be getting back,” He huffed, refusing to let his grief show in front of Nebula of all people.  
  
She turned back to him with a scowl, but rose anyway, “Back where?”  
  
“Earth,” He answered gruffly. He’d have time to think later. Right now, his focus was all that was holding him together, “Better go collect your human friend.”  
  
\--  
  
_It's the start of us, waking up, come on_

 _Are you ready? I'll be ready  
  
_ He’d spent his life among books.  
  
His livelihood, their covers. His garden, their contents. His closest friends, their bindings.  
  
He stepped into the sanctuary library, and felt as if in a room full of strangers.  
  
There is something, he knows. Something here to fix the world. The time stone was only the beginning. The universe contained multitudes of wonder and happenstance and possibilities. It was the essence of magic, and these books, they the gatekeeper. He recalled how ardently Steven had studied, willing himself and his own faithlessness to beat the odds. How he’d overcome his own doubts and impossibilities. Surpassed his own limitations from where many believed him immutable.  
  
Steven wasn’t here. He’d been lost to them along with countless others. No one else understood the bearing of magic the way the Sorcerer Supreme did. No one except Wong.  
  
So it fell to him. Comb through centuries and eons of knowledge, grasping for a morsel of truth that could combat the mad titan’s machinations. To undo his twisted impositions. Only…  
  
Books were only as knowing as their authors. Could only draw conclusions founded in their defined text. The universe had never seen the likes of this scale of chaos and power. What if answers didn’t yet exist? What if the solution lay only in ideas that had yet to be imagined?  
  
He wandered toward a disused shelf, embalmed in dust; drew a tomb from its care and set it carefully on the library desk.  
  
As he peered carefully down at the first of many blank pages, Wong thought it high time he wrote a book of his own.  
_  
_ \--  
  
_I don't want control, I want to let go  
  
_ The first few hours, he felt like he was out of his own head. Nothing felt _real_. Other voices sounded like echoes. The dirt underneath his knees could have been miles away, like his body had gone numb. He didn’t even feel it when the wind picked up the ashes cupped in his hands, carrying Bucky away like his remains weren’t weighed down by a potential built up over two long lifetimes.  
  
People were calling out to him, he knew. But he was operating on the wrong frequency. Their words couldn’t quite reach him, and he couldn’t quite _look_ at them. Everything was just a few degrees off axis, but it was enough. He didn’t want to know. Who else they had lost. Who else wouldn’t be coming home. This one devastation was _enough_.  
  
He had nothing left to offer them. A whole life spent clawing for control, and in the end, it didn’t even matter what they did, how hard they tried. Wanda could destroy the person she loved to keep them from that end, but it couldn’t save Vision, or the universe. Lives, senselessly swept away in a matter of heartbeats. Like wisps of fog. Without ceremony.  
  
He had nothing to offer them right now.  
  
\--  
  
_'Cause now it's time to let them know  
  
_ Bitterness was a tough poultice to swallow. And he had so much to be bitter about.  
  
He’d lived a long and carefree life. As a child, shooting through Asgard’s hallowed halls. As a young prince, crushing foes from behind the shield of his mighty privilege. As a grown soon-to-be king, bolstered by the surety of his entitlement. So rarely had he known loss in his long and comfortable life, he had to wonder if destiny had been saving it all up, only to unleash it upon him come the twilight of his years.  
  
From the first moment he’d fallen to Midgard a mortal, every step that followed had been haunted by this inevitability.  
  
First, his glory. The might that he’d spent his life shrouding himself in. Stripped of it as punishment. Followed soon after by the loss of Loki’s trust. That steadfast comradery that would never fully return, even at the end of Loki’s days.  
  
Soon after, his mother. Precious and infinite and then gone.  
  
His father. All knowing and yet still fallible. Returned to the ether.  
  
His home. His _people_.  
  
Every security he’d ever known and relied upon, gone.  
  
Even perpetually imperfect Loki had met his end. Found his glorious purpose in his own circuitous way.  
  
Something inside him wondered if he even had anything left to be taken.  
  
Even the people of Nidavellir, Eitri and his everlasting kin, had fallen in Thanos’ terrible footsteps. Nothing Thor had ever known remained sacred, tried against the tides of destiny.  
  
Where was there to go from here?  
  
He languished, entombed in the venerable walls of Midgard’s Wakandan bastion. So many of his mortal comrades fallen, their ghosts haunting him and his compatriots' every waking hour. Only the rabbit still held onto the hope of reuniting with his lost Guardian brethren, departing with haste for the planet Titan to recover those who remained. Thor earnestly wished his search would not be in vain, but the likelihood seemed slim. The magnitude of their losses too great to sustain such fantasy.  
  
And so he remained on Midgard. Listless and wanting for purpose. For a path forward through this devastation.  
  
His time, he was merely bidding though. Summoning his will. Groping for the tattered shreds of his lost shroud. Because this _wasn’t_ the end. If he had learned one thing in these last, long few years of his lifetime- a blink of an eye to one who had seen Ages come and pass- it was that there was _always_ something more to lose.  
  
Thanos would take no more from him.  
  
The time to avenge was long past due. _  
_  
\--  
  
_What about all the times you said you had the answers?  
  
_ “No,” Her face was drawn and more aged then he could ever recall seeing, “No, you can’t- don’t-” A stifled sob broke through her crumbling facade.  
  
He didn’t know what to say. He knew what he _needed_ to say- what she deserved to know. He just didn’t have the words. Hours and hours and light years to get to this place and he still didn’t know how to tell someone their not-their-son-but-basically-their-son was a pile of ash on a far away planet, a senseless sacrifice no one besides the mad titan could pretend to explain.  
  
Peter hadn’t died fighting. He had faded away, a frightened- fuck, a frightened _child_. He had felt it coming, and he’d been scared. Confused. And he'd had powerless. He’d thought he’d known that feeling intimately before. He’d been so, inconceivably, staggeringly wrong. Tony couldn’t even shoulder the blame for this- give her something target and channel that pain toward because. Because.  
  
Because if he understood the impact of the aftermath by now, and he thought he did, Peter would have crumbled to dust in the end, no matter if he’d been across the galaxy risking his life to save it, or here on Earth with his Aunt, safe and protected.  
  
“He’s not- he can’t be-” She gasped, visibly holding it together just to hear him deny her worst fear. She reached out, tangling her fingers in his lapels, “Don’t tell me he’s gone. Please. _Please_. He’s not _like_ everyone else, he must have- something must have-”  
  
He’d failed catastrophically in his life. Countless times, in countless ways. Countless people. From his father's first disparaging glance to Pepper’s final frantic phone call, he’s let people down. He wouldn’t say he’d grown _used_ to the feeling, but he and that feeling had a proven working relationship.  
  
He’s never had a kid turn to dust in his arms. Had to watch his face as he realized what was coming to him. As he told Tony he didn’t want to die. He’d been confused and dying, and Tony could offer him _nothing_ \- no words, no hope. His mind feels like he’s failed her, but God, his heart knows its Peter he failed the most spectacularly. Peter- who was supposed to be Tony but better. Tony, but with people who loved him and supported him when he needed it most. Tony, but with the chance to walk before he ran. Tony, but happier. Tony, but smarter. Tony, but _better_. Of all the moments and trials he’s gone up against in life, he suspects it’s losing Peter he may never recover from. The force of failure that will finally break him.  
  
He wrapped her trembling hand in his own shaking one, gathering it away from his chest, but holding it tight, “I’m sorry, May,” He said, voice barely able to break a whisper. Fuck, he’d thought he’d had to do hard, painful things so many times in his life. Make the hard calls, be the guy who stepped up with the hard truths. Nothing could compare to this, “I’m so sorry.”  
  
When May collapsed to the hallway floor, Tony went with her. Let the chorus of her sobs wash over him and fill the empty grooves that had been carved out in the wake of so much helplessness.  
  
\--  
  
_What about all the broken happy ever afters?  
  
_ “Tony.”  
  
He isn’t sure what he expected to greet him upon his arrival in Wakanda, but he would have put a lot of money on brave and belligerent Steve Rogers being back on the front lines of keeping the world turning after their greatest loss imaginable. The second Tony had heard who’d made it through the cull, he’d been on a quinjet, speeding across the Atlantic. The mirage that had kept the Wakandan capitol glamored was gone- and there was no one to meet him on the landing pad. It had been one of the kingsguard who’d finally found him wandering and figured this was the best they could do with him as they tried to march on in T’Challa’s wake.  
  
But he knew he’d had to be here. If there was one small glimmer of a lesson he’d taken away from Titan, is that there were problems- fights and arguments that seemed so important in the light of day, and then there were the things that _mattered_ , when the darkness descended. His family had been fragmented and lost for years, but somehow they were _safe_ , and titanic feud or no, he wasn’t going to let this keep going on a day longer. They could figure out the rest later.  
  
Except.  
  
The room they’d shown him to was a dark studio suite. The blinds drawn against the merciless African sun, casting the dingy room in shadows. They covered the discarded weapons and uniforms, the rumpled bed sheets, the shattered furniture. And somewhere in their depths was Steve Rogers.  
  
Steve had heard him arrive, if his greeting had been of any indication. His voice had been just as Tony recalled from years ago- strong and unwavering, but everything else about the image of Steve was foreign. He was slumped at the foot of the bed, looking as dejected as Tony had ever seen him, barely decent for company, by his own standards, in only a pair of boxer briefs and a white undershirt. No where near geared up for setting the world to rights. He hadn’t even looked at Tony since he’d appeared.  
  
“Nat sent word. Said you made it through. Bruce, Thor, Clint. Rhodey. I don’t know the exact statistics involved in whatever Thanos did but… it felt like I should be here.”  
  
“No, Tony, that’s fine. _Good_... I’m sorry, it’s just…”  
  
“Been a long couple of days. I get it,” Tony crossed the debris strewn room to perch near the former Captain. Even in the spirit of reconciliation, it felt wrong to break the silence first, after everything that happened, so long ago now.  
  
It was a few long beats before Steve spoke, “I’m sure Nat told you. About Wanda. And Sam.”  
  
_“We got lucky, Tony. But not that lucky. We still... lost people. And Steve… Steve’s gonna have a real hard time.  
  
Barnes didn’t make it.”  
  
_ Tony nodded slowly, “And Barnes,” He felt Steve stiffen near him, even with ample space between them, “Yeah, heard about that, too.”  
  
Steve finally glanced up, meeting Tony’s eye, “I don’t know what to tell you, Tony. It is- it _was_ the way it was and I’m not going to apologize-”  
  
“That’s not-” Tony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “That’s not what I’m here for, God, Steve. Whatever all that was that happened, I’d really hope we’d both agree that’s not what’s important right now.”  
  
Steve didn’t say anything, so Tony continued, “I’m not happy it turned out this way, so don’t even start with me on that. I’ve gotten a lot of... _perspective_ , or whatever, and I know Barnes was important to you. That the case isn't as cut and dry as my gut wanted to think. I just want us to be able to move forward here.”  
  
“It’s not gonna be that easy, Tony.”  
  
“Well, I’m not going to pretend I have any ideas on the subject, because I’m barely hanging on by a thread. But moving forward, that part isn’t optional. The world keeps spinning, we’ve all had to grapple with that fact by now. I just decided I’d rather we do it, you know, _together_ , instead of apart. That’s all I’m saying here.”  
  
Steve sighed, “So you want a truce, is that it?”  
  
“I’m saying I don’t care about any of it anymore. Call it a truce, call it water under bridge, call it whatever you want, Cap. I’m done with it.”  
  
They sat in silence for about a minute, before Steve eventually broke, “Heard you and Pepper were going to get married.”  
  
“She’s still here,” Tony felt the need to clarify, “But yeah, still figuring the rest out. She was less than pleased with the way I hitchhiked myself halfway across the galaxy, you know. And I’m… not exactly standing on stable ground at the moment. Couldn’t blame her if she decided it’s too much trouble, in the end.”  
  
“I’m glad,” Steve answered, voice so quietly _sad_ in a way Tony had been absolutely certain Steve Rogers hadn’t been capable of, “That she’s still here for you figure the rest out with.”  
  
It didn’t take long for the gears to click into place.  
  
“You,” He stammered, slowly letting the implications play out in his head, “You and Barnes… were trying to _figure things out_ , weren’t you.”  
  
He heard Steve laugh brokenly next to him, incongruous with everything about Tony’s assertion. He turned to him, watching as Steve uncoiled from his slump, bracing his hands on the bed behind him and staring up at the ceiling.  
  
“We’d done a pretty decent job of it, actually. After they- after he was fixed, it was… we were on our way to something really good. Something I wanted to stick around to see the end of.”  
  
Tony watched him closely as he said, “There isn’t supposed to be an end to something like that. It’s just… a whole series of moments that just keep happening, reminding you why you’re both there in the first place. Why you chose them, and they chose you.”  
  
“Never thought I’d hear something so sentimental, coming from you.”  
  
“Don’t go spreading it around, alright?” Tony huffed, before lowering his voice, “Was actually something I was toying with before, for our vows.” This time, Steve’s smothered sob felt much more contextually appropriate.  
  
“I’d thought… I thought, even though everything else… well, there was a lot of improvements to be made, at least he. At least me and him. We were falling back into each other’s orbits again. For the first time since I came out of the ice, I could look at the future without seeing just an endless _fight_.”  
  
“Knew I should’ve found you a therapist, back in New York.”  
  
“Not the point. It’s like you said- falling back in with him, it was a change in perspective I needed. He gave me a perspective _I didn’t know_ I needed. He just… had this way of living, nowadays. He appreciated every day he got like no one else. Small things, things that most people take for granted- he lived for them. Was always looking for more, but never unhappy with what he had. He liked to be helpful, but knew when to step back and look after himself first. He didn’t mean to, but he was teaching me how to see the world through that lens. He was teaching me to be grateful. And I was. I was grateful to have… so much time ahead of us, just to grow back together and see where it went.”  
  
He remembered, right after he and Pepper had come together- really finding each other after so long just knowing each other- how it felt to see the future spreading out before you. Opportunities and moments that didn’t always center on one another, but knowing they they’d be along for the ride with you… Tony had never been good at opening himself up to Pepper, letting her in for all the good and bad times they were supposed to whether together. He’d close himself off when the going got tough, ostensibly to shelter her. In the end, it might have been that, more than the tough bits, that drove her away time after time. But nothing the future held for them could take away those early days, when they’d decided to build something together.  
  
Barnes and Steve had barely gotten started. Hadn’t had time to figure out how to put up walls or pick apart each others’ flaws, or even grow apart. Or, if they were better than Tony had ever been and might ever be- how to fit together in a seamless way, that would allow them to weather the tough times with grace. They’d never even know.  
  
“We knew.” He heard Steve say, softly, only just realizing he might have voiced a least some of his thoughts aloud. Shit, how long had it been since he’d slept? “Or we had a pretty good idea. It wouldn’t have been the first time, after all,” He smiled, though there was only heartbreak in it, “Not even the first time I’ve had to keep going without him.”  
  
“I’m so sorry, Steve,” Tony whispered, forcing himself to tear his gaze away from the wash of emotions rolling across Steve’s face. Hating himself for not having the right words, again.  
  
“Me, too, Tony,” Steve answered, sounding exhausted and devastated, “But thanks, for being here.”  
  
\--  
  
_What about all the plans that ended in disaster?_

_Oh, what about love? What about trust?_

_What about us?  
  
  
_

 

**Author's Note:**

> My own way of processing A:IW.
> 
> There will be a second chapter eventually, when I get my head wrapped around things more. But I think this stands on its own.


End file.
